


Coffee

by AutumnSpicePudding



Series: Original Works [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Break Up, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Other, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnSpicePudding/pseuds/AutumnSpicePudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cup lies in shards on the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee

_The cup lies in shards on the floor. Brown liquid has stained white painted walls and created a small puddle on the parquet. The lights are off. It’s night time. She’s gone._

_You play it back._

The first time you ever saw her, she was sitting in the old leather armchair at the café you worked at. Hands clad in dark green fingerless cloves, she was clutching onto a cup of Earl Grey and memories of her past. Her hair fell in wild curls around her face, and she looked thoughtful. So, in essence; she was sad.

You’re not sure what prompted you to sit down opposite her. You think it was your nature. You’re extroverted, curious about people. You like solving them like one would solve problems, and she was an enigma that you just had to see for yourself.

The first time you ever kissed her, she’d just finished her latest painting. Her hands were covered in red and blue and purple, and there were two mugs on the table. As she accidentally reached for the one with paint water, you covered her hand with yours and listened to her laugh, because you didn’t hear it often and rare things should be treasured, not feared.

You watched her lips as she took a sip of her tea, and gave in to your desire to catch that extra drop with your tongue. She tasted of Ceylan tea and smelled of vanilla, and you were reminded of the cakes your mother would make and of home.

The first time you ever saw her lose herself, you’d come home to the overpowering smell of cinnamon-spice tea and cigarette smoke. The room was covered in mugs and ashtrays and secret fears, and your feet walked to the bathroom on their own accord.

You soothed her cuts with wet paper towels and her tears with gentle kisses, and you could barely hear her sobbed apologies over the roaring in your ears and the breaking of your heart.

The first time you ever shouted at her, it was because of hidden lighters under her bed and broken promises. You didn’t understand, and you wouldn’t let her explain. You were hurt; you failed to see that she was in agony. She stared at her cup of Chaï tea until it went as cold as your blood upon your discovery, and she bit her lip as you refused to bite your tongue.

Later, she came to your bedroom with whispered confessions and shaking hands, and you pulled her close with welcoming arms and reassuring caresses. Her face was wet and her mouth was dry and her mind was a desert filled with cutting words and doubts that weighed much more than she could carry. You didn’t quite know that, then.

The first time you realized you loved her, she was red-cheeked and laughing, snowflakes in her hair and her hand in yours, pulling you downhill so quickly you were sure it was going to end in broken legs. It didn’t; she was too graceful for that. She spun and jumped and giggled, and you found yourself slipping, tripping, falling. You tumbled in love before you had the time to hit the brakes, and it was a car wreck of epic proportions, and you wished, for a moment, that you’d fastened your seatbelt.

Later, she smiled at you over her cup of Darjeeling, eyes twinkling like the cheap Christmas lights hung up everywhere. You felt your heart constrict painfully in your chest, and as you reached out to wipe at the biscuit crumbs that lingered on the side of her mouth, you found yourself wishing you could be the one to make her smile like that every single day of your life.

You didn’t, though. You couldn’t. You thought kisses and I love yous would fix her but your first mistake was thinking she was broken.

You brought her flowers and chocolates and pills that were recommended by a professional, you told her secrets and promises and that she needed to try out yoga. You made her laugh and you made her happy and you made her so, so tired, and the worst is that you thought that the circles under her eyes were just another side-effect of depression.

She lived her life fast, exciting, uncontrollably, and instead of slowing it down you tried to hit pause. You weren’t scared for her; you were scared of the collision that might occur, of slipping off the road and losing control. You were scared for you, and she saw that, because she saw everything.

She was an enigma, and you thought you’d figured her out, but you hadn’t. She’d figured you out, and she understood, and she told you so.

She wore the scarf you gave her and her lips were the straight line you wanted her to live on. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and your jaw clenched with unsaid words that your pride kept buried at the bottom of your mind. The door slammed; sudden and surprising. The same way she entered your life, she left it.

She left, not because you couldn’t help her or because you weren’t trying hard enough.

She left, not because you were mean or didn’t give her enough advice.

She left because you tried to tell her what to do, because you thought that just because you read a Google article it meant you knew exactly how she felt.

She left because instead of listening, you preached about support groups and alternatives and finding inner peace.

She left, left you alone in a cold apartment, and it felt like everything was in black and white because she was the one with the colours. You sat on the floor, your head in your hands, and your heart lay in pieces with the shards of porcelain; left behind as you picked up the mug she’d forgotten and hurled it with all your strength against the wall.

You should have known, is the thing. You should have listened, should have understood, should have done more for her instead of for you.

You should have known.

You should have known when she started drinking coffee.


End file.
